Attachment

​I'm not really a dreamerBut I dream someEspecially on nights whenI'm not sure if I'm hot or coldHome is only a Skype call away

Fifteen minutesOf wondering if they can see and hear meBut I once dreamed thatWe were all stranded in RussiaI once dreamed thatMy father diedAnd my mother followedI once dreamed thatNot mosquitoes but fat crocodilesResided in the swamp near homeDad and Mum the target of their menaceBut even in my dream I'm still attachedTo reality"I'm only an engineer," I whineBefore confronting the reptilesWherever it may beMy dreams are all brownwashedNot the color of barks and branchesOr poopBrown, the skinWhere I come fromWe like to call it "fair" or "wheat"It’s okay if it can be bleachedTo unblemished ivoryA manageable shadeA marriageable hueWhen you live miles awayThe guilt is a healed scarThat burns only at the memoryI'm still attached to realityMy favorite word is 'Brahmin'As I've been taught to believeAnd it works best when attachedTo 'guilt'